


Etched on your skin

by azyland



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azyland/pseuds/azyland
Summary: For the prompt “Finan/Uhtred they know each other like the back of their hands”Or Finan knows Uhtred (‘s body) like the back of his hand.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	Etched on your skin

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a cute & short fic to swoon over Uhtred and Finan being domestic in the morning and helping me get over my writer’s block on my other fic. It somehow grew into this much more smutty fic with body worship because Finan apparently likes to take care of his boy. I think there’s a plot hidden somewhere. Maybe. But mostly it’s smut and fluff.
> 
> Thank you Jenny for the correction and the feedback. Another big thank you to the tlk community for the support.

Finan wakes up slowly, warm and comfortable. He keeps his eyes closed savoring the moment. He doesn’t have to open them to know Uhtred is splayed out beside him, sleeping on his belly and dead to the world. In all his years on English soil, Finan never woke up without being tied to Uhtred. He woke up at his side as a free man and as his most fervent companion. He woke up at his side as a warrior covered in dried blood and dust on a battlefield and also at the very table where they emptied a whole barrel of ale the night before.

But he also woke up far away from Uhtred, days and weeks and months even, after having last seen him. Every single time he woke up with the absolute conviction that they were tied together, no matter the time and space between them. He eventually woke up at his side as his lover and in his arms. 

As he’s stirring awake, if he concentrates hard enough he can hear Uhtred’s deep breathing, slow and steady. He can even picture his long hair on the pillow and the curve of his back half hidden by the sheet. Perhaps a quick look won’t hurt. Uhtred never sits still and Finan doesn’t have nearly enough time to just watch him be. He blinks his eyes open, squinting in the sunlight before his vision focuses again. 

He was right. Of course he was right and the sight is still just as breathtaking as ever. His lover is face down on the bed, his lips partially open, pink and inviting but too far to kiss them. 

Uhtred left arm is extended toward him, his fingers almost touching his shoulder and Finan yearns to feel it touch his skin. He can almost see the callus on his fingers from years at sea and on the battlefield. Although he doesn’t see it from where he lay he knows the middle of his palm bares a long burn from his index to his wrist. He got it 2 winters ago when Uhtred grabbed a burning handle off of the cooking fire at the end of a campaign. Idiot. It had been an interesting few weeks to say the least, a hand down had proven difficult on all aspects of life. 

He extends his own hand and softly touches Uhtred’s wrist, the delicate skin where his pulse beats. You can still see a faint outline of the slave shackles around his wrist, and the ankles he knows show the same scars. Scars Finan shares with him. It’s always a bittersweet reminder of how their story started from a nightmare.

He drags his fingers up slowly, knowing what’s coming, He reaches the shoulder and finds the part where the skin is raised, still mangled and red so many years later. Sverri, the slave master, had crudely carved an S to mark Uhtred as his when he bought him. All of his slaves wore the same mark, carved with a knife and rubbed with dirt and sand to get it infected. You either die or survive with a mark clear as day branding you. Finan thinks he remembers Uhtred shivering from a fever, the wound infected and swollen but the memory is distant. Back then, he was nothing but a stranger to him. One of those faceless men taking the bench across from him until they didn’t, replaced by the next faceless men. Now they forever carry with them the physical proof of their freedom being ripped away from them. Finan thought for a long time of burning the skin around the scar, disfiguring it enough that you would never be able to see what it once was. He never did because it also felt like giving in and he was nothing if not stubborn.

Finan shakes his head to clear his mind. He can’t quite reach the rest of his lover’s body without moving and although he’s comfortable, the possibility of all this soft skin laid bare before him is enough appeal to convince him. He rolls over and molds himself to Uhtred’s side. He runs his lips on the sleeping man's brow when Uhtred starts stirring away from sleep. 

“‘Morning” murmurs Finan, his lips mouthing the word directly onto his skin. Incoherent mumbles respond to him and Finan smiles because apparently it’s going to be that kind of morning. 

Finan moves his lips lower to Uhtred’s temple, right where you can still the faint mark Ragnar the Elder left when he took Uhtred from the battlefield as a child. This one Uhtred still fiddles with every time there’s talk of family, like an heirloom he carries with him, etched in his skin. 

He doesn’t have to bring his fingers to the other side of his face to know he would find high on his right cheekbone, the mark left by the fist of a nameless Saxon. The most visible of all his scars and it was the remnants of a drunken row in the alehouse. The next morning, neither Uhtred nor Finan could even remember what had caused the fight to begin with but Finan does remember throwing up his guts out from drinking too much ale. Just a bit further, above the ear, there’s the indent left by a Dane hitting Uhtred’s helmet in Tettenhall. That one had bled for days and Finan had to force Uhtred to get it stitched up on the 3rd morning they woke up with blood everywhere on their furs. 

Finan wants to explore so much more. He pulls away but a strong arm ends up moving and snaking itself around his torso stopping his movements. “Where are you going?”

“Me?” asks Finan innocently. Surely what Uhtred aimed for was a deadly glare sent Finan way but to anyone else it would qualify as sleepy eyes. Too early for humor, got it. “I’m just trying to enjoy the view.” he says with a smirk and a kiss on his nose. The hand holding him releases him but not without a vicious pinch on his side “ouch!”. The guiltless fingers slide down toward his ass for a quick grope but Finan chooses to take that as an apology. He has a goal in mind now and he will not be deterred by foul play. 

While Finan sits back on his heels, Uhtred rearranges himself. He crosses his arms above his head with his face hidden in the middle and stretches his legs, pulled tight like a bow string. Finan can hear his ankle crack when Uhtred rotates his feet. After Uhtred twisted his left foot a few years back it started cracking every few steps, to Uhtred utter annoyance. It’s a comforting sound to hear every morning as part of the morning stretch ritual. 

The Irishman brings his hand back to the mangled shoulder’s scar. He scrapes it with his thumbnail but bends to kiss it better in the same breath, his tongue peaking quickly to taste the salty skin. He slides his hand higher, applying pressure to what was surely sore muscles up to his neck where he squeezes the skin like you’d do to a baby kitten. He gets a grunt in return which makes Finan smile.

Uhtred’s curly strands of hair are freely falling on his shoulders, around the pillow and most importantly, hiding his neck. That won’t do. He grabs the little leather scrap Uhtred uses to tie his hair. It must have fallen during the night and he applies himself to fasten the ribbon again. He never did a good job of that, both Uhtred and Sihtric laughing at his poor result every single time he tried to help. Although no one will judge him this morning, even he has to admit it’s a little lopsided. 

Uthred’s back is a thing of beauty that Finan forever lusts and dreams about. The strong line of his neck, the broad shoulders, the muscle definition following his spine. All of it is obsessively beautiful. Finan remembers all the time he stared at this back when they rode together across the kingdoms of England fighting for Kings and lords that didn’t always deserve their swords and their blood. Uhtred’s faith over right and wrong never failing and his back straight in it’s righteousness. 

He drags his hand along it, from his neck to his arse and he feels his cock stirring up and taking interest in the possibility ahead. Uhtred too is starting to take interest, he can hear him take in a deep breath when he reaches the small of his back and from the corner of his eye he can see him turn his head toward him. He ignores him. He can see his face every day and hear him chat about nonsense all day long, but he can’t touch him at will like he does this morning. He brings his hand up again, only a finger or two lightly touching the skin along the way, until he reaches the first of the long and ugly gashes left by the whip of the damn slave boat. 

Years ago, they used to stir anger, deep in his belly, rage that would boil within his blood until he lashed out himself, but now it’s a comforting sight. Finan knows now, he lived through hell and all of this pain brought him the man laid bare before him this morning. Like every time he sees those scars he closes his eyes and thanks both his God and Uhtred’s Gods for putting Uhtred on his path. It’s probably not what all those Gods had in mind when they intertwined their fate, but Finan is quite satisfied with the current end result. His eyes still closed, he follows each of the deepest scars by memory, retracing them over and over.

Finan feels Uhtred stir under his caress and he reopens his eyes. Perhaps this morning isn’t quite the best timing to pray to God and in any case his God isn’t all too fond of what he’s planning on doing. He sends Uhtred a quick apologetique smile “I got distracted.” Uhtred is used to him getting distracted by now but he replies “Finally bored of me, Finan?” which pulls a chuckle from the Irishman. 

“I’m not sure, but let’s see” He pushes himself on his knees and shuffles down the bed until he can reach the lower part of his body. He bends again and bites playfully at a round arse cheek while he also tickles at the junction of his thighs and his arse. “Finan!” It sounds both like a warning and a plea. 

He licks the faint teeth marks he just left and sits back up admiring his hard work. “Something’s wrong?”he asks after a quick wink to his lover and goes back for more. He pinches the abused patch of skin a few more times, although more tenderly, and drifts back down. If he extends his fingers, he would reach the sensitive spot right behind Uhtred balls and that’s always a sure thing to rile him up. Let’s not make it too easy just yet and he keeps on going instead. 

He touches his side and hip tenderly. Uhtred’s horse had fallen, with him following suit. It happened fast, in the middle of a battle and to this day, no one found out who hit the horse. Finan heart stopped beating when he saw the horse go down, too far to go and see for himself if Uhtred had survived the fall or if he was hurt. Instead he had to keep on fighting all but 100 feet away until it was finally calm enough that he could look again. When he turned around Sihtric was there already, pulling Uhtred up and helping him hop away with blood trickling down his leg. He had bruises all over and a sore shoulder but luckily beside those and a bloody hip, nothing bad came of it. And even without the help of this idiot, they won the battle, which Finan enjoys pointing out every once in a while. It helps with the ego.

Finan always loved Uhtred thighs, unmarked by life and labor unlike the rest of him. Just milky white, saved from the sun and lightly dusted with soft brown hair. It reminds Finan of the softness of a woman. Part of the attraction lays in the contrast between their delicate appearance yet being so muscular and powerful. Finan shifts on his knees to get closer and knead the muscle with his hands, working his fingers into the knots. 

Uhtred, not so subtly, parts his leg more and moans softly hoping for more. “Not so bored, are we?” Teases Finan. He tickles the inside of a knee on his way to his defined calf, those too unmarked but tanned by the beating sun. In the front of his left shin he knows he would find an old burn scar from when a rock kicked near the campfire sent burning embers flying everywhere, including one who stuck to his skin.

Uhtred starts canting his hips, hoping for more friction surely. Finan can see the red tip of his cock rubbing on the sheet, already half hard and screaming for attention. “Maybe i’ll give you a hand - literally - if you ask nicely” is what Finan offers sitting back on his heels but keeping a hand on Uhtred’s arse, reaching for the soft spot right behind his balls and tickling the inside of his thighs.

“You’re such a little shit.” Uhtred has always been a walking contraction. So strong willed in everything he does, including in the bedroom. He loves being cared for, tenderness and soft touches goes miles further for Uhtred than any type of quick and dirty hump yet he never wants to admit it unless coaxed into it. To Finan’s absolute pleasure.

Finan smirks and puts both of his hands up, wiggling his fingers in the air, like the little shit he apparently is. “Aye, that’s okay _Lord,_ I’ve got something to keep me busy.” he emphasises the lord with fond mockness and he takes his own cock already hard in hand and pumps it a few times. In their bedroom there’s no place between them for the lord title and they never use it. Outside of very specific - and hot - instances. And the occasional jeering. 

The tip of his dick is already humid and red from watching Uhtred laid bare who’s moving his hip ever so slightly against the sheet, it’s quite the sight. When he sees the saxon-danish man starting to move more, looking like he wants to turn around, Finan tuts and pinches an arse cheek once again. That’s not where he wants the morning to go. “You could turn around and finish by yourself” is the first option he offers “but where’s the fun in that?” he strokes himself a few more times, circling the tip with his thumb and smearing the wetness already gathering there. Uhtred’s eyes follow his movements and only leaves his cock for a split second to look back at his own arse being (gently) mistreated. “Or you can ask nicely?”

Uhtred looks at him for a few more heartbeats while Finan slows down his touch and gives himself a good squeeze to taper off his pleasure. He’s just about to let it go, thinking he read the situation wrong this morning, when Uhtred hides his face in his arms again and he hears him mutter a quiet “Please.” The luck of the Irish strikes again.

“I’m sorry Uhtred, what did you say?” he teases but a knee hits his shin and he chuckles. He bends down to kiss a shoulder blade, nipping gently at the skin. He soothes the leg that just hit him and pushes it softly to encourage him to straighten back on his belly. “Please, little shit” he hears this time, making him let out a full on belly laugh. “Hum, we’ll see what I can do with that. It wasn’t asked very nicely but we can meet in the middle. I am a generous man.” Uhtred huffs under him but doesn’t reply back. 

Finan shuffles on his knees and swings a leg over Uhtred to straddle his thighs. He doesn’t sit on his lover right away, instead pulling on his hips and instructing him quietly to pull up. He reaches under Uhtred to grab his cock and Uhtred responds with a small cry. Finan strokes him just on the side of too tight, as he likes it. With his other hand Finan’s thumb touches a scar near Uhtred’s navel left there by Sigefrid’s sword years ago, right before he died. He flattens his dick against his taut stomach and murmur “lay back down” effectively trapping his cock between his belly and the bed. No friction possible outside of Finan applying pressure on his body or rocking him hard enough against the sheet. 

He sits back on Uhtred’s thighs naked skin on naked skin and grabs the arse cheeks laid before him with both hands. He kneads them forcefully and spreads them out to drag a dry finger over his hole. He gives a tentative push with his index, not breaching the ring of muscle, just teasing. Uhtred exhales like his breath is too much to hold and turns his head to look at him with hooded eyes. 

Uhtred is still laying down with his hands crossed over his head and it’s an invitation he can’t resist. Finan tips forward to reach Uhtred’s forearms and slides up to his wrists, gripping them firmly. His mouth is right by Uhtred’s ear and he nips at it while he whispers “Hold on and don’t move.” He can feel the muscle in the wrists he holds when Uhtred grips his hands together and the aborted hip thrust he makes to alleviate pressure on his neglected cock. 

Finan leaves a trail of kisses from his ear to his neck, nosing along his hairline where he smells the most like _his_. He bites down, hard, on his neck, the sensitive spot at the junction of the neck and shoulder. He moves his hips forward and realizes his dick is nestled on top of Uhtred’s arse crack. It sends sparks flying down his spine. 

He makes sure each push is a tad harder than he’d do it if it was solely for him so Uhtred can feel the pressure down to his own cock trapped under his belly. A faint gasp is exhaled with each thrust and that’s all he needs to hear to know it’s effective. He brings his hand back to grab his dick and help guide the movement, his hips moving automatically by now and gaining speed. 

He stops biting the neck under him and instead bows down to kiss his way down his back, reaching about mid way through before he can’t reach further down. It’s a shame.. He straightens up and spreads his arse cheeks again, looking at the fluttering hole and rubbing his wet tip over it. Fuck. 

“Turn around, love” Finan asks and he helps Uhtred turn from his belly to his back. He settles on Uhtred’s lap and admires the view. It’s a whole new playing field. 

He touches Uhtred’s hips, his stomach, goes up to a nipple that he scratches softly in passing, he’s touching everywhere but his cock. Uhtred raises up on his elbow and pulls Finan toward him, asking silently for a kiss. He happily obliges, getting lost in the familiarity of it. Uhtred’s kisses are always demanding and possessive. He licks in his mouth, sucks at his lips and chases him when he tries to pull away. 

He shuffles higher on Uhtred lap until he can wrap his right hand around both of their cocks. They both hiss into their kiss when they finally touch, want tugging low in their belly. Uhtred tips his head backward to breathe, exhaling heavily while Finan nips at his throat. He stokes them faster, twisting on the way up and slides back down again. And again. And again. 

The maddening touch is getting too much for both of them, their release hovering just out of reach. Finan brings a hand up, grabbing Uhtred’s hair and crashing their mouths together again. The kiss is clumsy, all teeth and no technique, both chasing to the finish line. Another twist, the friction of both cocks sliding against one another and Finan finally finds release. He spills on his fingers with Uhtred following over the edge just a few heartbeat later.

Finan releases them and kisses Uhtred sweetly, almost chaste, before pulling away and moving back to his side of the bed. Uhtred hands him a piece of cloth to wipe his hand on and settle beside him

Finan turns his head to look at Uhtred, sitting facing him, with a soft smile on his face. “Good morning, madman” says Uhtred.

“Madman?” gasps Finan with false indignation. “All I did was an innocent inspection Uhtred. It is my duty to make sure everything is still good to go, old man.”

Uhtred sputters like every time Finan says this kind of nonsense “You are older than me Finan! But I'll forgive you this one time,” It’s the 3rd time this week alone, but they both pretend like it’s not. “Since it was a good enough morning.” 

Uhtred has such a smug face that Finan can’t help himself. “Good enough? You barely participated! And you implied I was bored. Really you’re lucky I did all the work.”

“I thought it was your duty?”

“It’s my duty to make sure you didn’t brain yourself while I wasn’t looking, god-damn idiot. Not make you come all over me.”

Uhtred smiles and pecks him on the lips “I got to come. I win.” He’s not wrong. 

Finan smiles back and closes his eyes. He listens to Uhtred get ready in the room. He can picture it all so clearly even with his eyes closed. Soft skin, too many scars, long hair tied up and teeth marks on his neck. All his.


End file.
